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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29254323">We're Going Home</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldieHawn/pseuds/GoldieHawn'>GoldieHawn</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Bipolar Disorder, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Canon Era, M/M, Manic Ian Gallagher, Married Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:06:57</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,304</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29254323</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldieHawn/pseuds/GoldieHawn</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The aftermath of 11x05...</p><p>“Very funny, asshole. You’re always the one with the stick up your ass and now all of a sudden I’m the uptight one? I mean you were just nagging me this morning and didn’t even let me have a gun and now all of sudden we can have as many guns as we want and then you think, ‘hey let’s steal an ambulance and leave a dead body under a-” Oh shit. How could he have not realized? Now that he said it out loud it seems so obvious.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>197</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We're Going Home</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For the sake of this fic we're gonna pretend that Terry Milkovich isn't lying shot in front of their house and no one else is home.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ian and Mickey had been driving around in the ambulance for a bit after they dropped the body under the bridge. Wow, that’s a normal sentence. Ian was tapping the wheel and singing along to some of their favorite songs. Of course, they had a few make-out sessions in between songs because god, was Mickey turned on from his husband’s change of attitude. Mickey was a bit iffy about it, considering they just stole the fuckin’ thing, but they were having fun. That, and Ian usually keeps him in check when he’s doing something stupid. Frankly, he finds that he is a bit too over dramatic a majority of the time.</p><p>“What do you want to do now?” Ian enthusiastically asked, turning the wheel, driving further away from the Gallagher house.</p><p>“Now? Um, go the fuck home? We’ve been out since we woke up and now the sun’s down.” Mickey questioned, figuring home was the only clear response.</p><p>“Yeah, but I don’t know. Isn’t it nice out today? We could do so much more. You’re not tired, are you?”</p><p>“Well no but considering how much I want your dick in my ass right now I think we’re gonna be.”</p><p>With that, Ian smirked and made a sudden, fast u turn. You could hear the tires screech and the supplies in the back fly around as Mickey grabbed onto the door, surprised by the sudden motion. “What the hell are you doing, Gallagher?” Mickey practically yelled, adjusting himself after the turn.</p><p>“We’re going home, like you said. Unless you changed your mind?” Ian said casually, not seeming to be affected.</p><p>“Well we’re not gonna have any sex if we’re dead. Jesus, can you drive like a normal fucking person?”</p><p>“Pull the stick out of your ass, Mick! We’re having fun! You got a lot of things going up your a-”</p><p>“Very funny, asshole. You’re always the one with the stick up your ass and now all of a sudden I’m the uptight one? I mean you were just nagging me this morning and didn’t even let me have a gun and now all of sudden we can have as many guns as we want and then you think, ‘hey let’s steal an ambulance and leave a dead body under a-” Oh shit. How could he have not realized? Now that he said it out loud it seems so obvious.</p><p>“We’re fine Mick!” Ian played the next song on his phone, slightly speeding and continuing to hum to the rhythm.</p><p>Is he taking his meds? Do they need adjusting? Did he do something to set him off? Something must have set him off. He was fine this morning, right? Wasn’t he fine this morning? Now he can’t remember if he was acting weird. He seemed to have been fine until- fuckin’ Lou. Being robbed at gunpoint must’ve triggered his mania or something… Mother fucker stole $1,000 from them, and now he’s probably the reason Ian’s driving around in a fucking ambulance. He's a dead man. What’s next? How is he gonna-</p><p>“What are you thinking about?” Ian interrupts Mickey’s thoughts. </p><p>“Huh?” Mickey sits up, not fully paying attention to what he said.</p><p>“You’re doing that thing with your lip when you’re worried.”</p><p>“I don’t do a thing with my lip.”</p><p>“Yes you do, you were just doing it.”</p><p>Mickey rubs his hand over his mouth, leaning his elbow on the door. </p><p>“Just relax. No need to be thinking so much.” Ian pats his shoulder playfully. It was a bit rough to Mickey. </p><p>“I don’t think I’m the one who needs to relax.” Mickey says as Ian parks the ambulance in front of their house. “What are you doing, dumbass? Way to make it obvious that we’re the ones that took this thing.”</p><p>“What do you suggest we do? I think it’s fine.”</p><p>“Well you’re clearly not fuckin’ thinking. They’re probably gonna be out searching for it. Park it like two streets over.”</p><p>Ian does as Mickey says and hops out of the ambulance. “Wanna race to the house?” </p><p>“Not reall-”</p><p>“Go!” Ian yells as he starts running down the street. Mickey doesn’t even bother trying to catch up with the redhead, considering he’s got a shit ton of energy and is already way ahead.</p><p>A few minutes later, Mickey comes into the house to hear a bunch of noise coming from upstairs. He walks towards the sound, seeing Ian rummaging through the bathroom cabinets swiftly. </p><p>“The fuck are you looking for that’s that important?” Mickey gets ignored as Ian stops for a second to think, and then pushes past him to go downstairs. He goes through the cabinets in the kitchen as well, not really looking at what he’s pushing through.”</p><p>“Hey, hey?! Can you slow down?”</p><p>“No, no- I have to get-”</p><p>“Are you taking your meds?” Mickey blurts out. He knows he hates that question. Oh god, why did he even ask? Ian’s face immediately goes serious and he stops moving around. He looks Mickey in the eyes for what felt like an eternity to him. </p><p>“Yes.” Ian says as he walks off, going back upstairs.</p><p>God damnit, he should've just kept his mouth shut. Did it make the situation any better knowing that? It doesn’t change how he’s acting. He just got him mad. </p><p>Mickey eventually makes his way up and meets Ian in their room. Mickey peers over the door frame, and his husband looks up at him. Not entirely mad, but not very happy either. </p><p>“Can we talk?”</p><p>“Mickey Milkovich wants to talk?” Ian sarcastically teases and Mickey walks towards the bed  to sit next to him.</p><p>“Yeah yeah, shut up.” Mickey smirks at the joke. They both quiet down for a few seconds while he takes Ian’s hand and rubs it with his thumb. “I know you hate when people suspect you of being off your meds when you do one little thing.”</p><p>Ian rolls his eyes, dreading the conversation topic.</p><p>Mickey continues, “Look, I believe you’re taking them, alright? They’re not magic beans though, shit still happens. I just want to be there when It does.”</p><p>“Can I not just have fun for once without it being related to my illness?” Ian argued, still not wanting to accept something’s wrong. “Being in that truck, it made me happy, alright? I miss being an EMT. It’s when I had purpose, and I really enjoyed the job.”</p><p>“You still have purpose, Gallagher. And I’m not saying you can’t feel shit. A lot of that stuff you did is not you. And don’t I know you more than anyone else?”</p><p>Ian gulped and rested his head on his hands, knowing Mickey was right.</p><p>Mickey hesitated his next words. “Do you feel manic at all?”</p><p>Ian took a moment to respond, sitting back up. “No…I don’t know.”</p><p>“What is that supposed to mean?”</p><p>“I don’t know. I can’t slow my thoughts down. And they’re all unorganized. I figured I was just stressed.”</p><p>“Okay… how about you try and sleep it off? Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do?”</p><p>“Not tired.”</p><p>Mickey lets out a sigh.</p><p>Ian looks down, “Sorry.”</p><p>“Stop saying that.”</p><p>“No, you shouldn’t have to deal with this.”</p><p>“And I don’t, but I’m choosing to. And you have nothing to apologize over so shut the fuck up.”</p><p>“...Why?”</p><p>“Because I love you… Now let's get out of this GI-Joe shit.” On that note, Mickey stands up, already taking off his outfit. He looks Ian up and down. “...Before I get hard again.” He always loved seeing Ian in uniform. </p><p>Ian gets up and joins him. “Oh, so we’re not gonna continue where we left off?”  </p><p>Mickey remembers their initial reason for wanting to get home and smirks. “Oh yes we are. Come here.” Mickey pushes Ian onto the bed.</p>
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